


Heavy Mist

by cravenhaven



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Deepthroating, Desk Sex, F/M, High Sex, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Psychotropic Drugs, Rough Sex, Slow Wind Up, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cravenhaven/pseuds/cravenhaven
Summary: Wordlessly, he leaned down to retrieve something from his right-side drawer. The smooth, shining case was small enough to fit in his one hand. He set it on the surface of his desk.“Do you recognize this?”“It’s a standard issue hygiene kit,” you answered. It would contain a toothbrush, shaving accoutrements, a plain comb. Simple yet essential and totally baffling in regard to its presence before you.“Very good,” he purred.You gave him as wry a look as you dared and snorted. “Shall we cut to the chase, sir?”With spread, slender fingers he slid the kit toward you until it was within your grasp.“Open it.”--General Hux finds your stash of space-molly and makes you sorry.





	Heavy Mist

**Author's Note:**

> the first in hopefully a long line of creatively bankrupt reader smut one shots with only the rudest fandom lads
> 
> so stick around if you wanna get it on that @ https://cravenhaven.tumblr.com/

_“Captain, join me in my office, if you please.”_

You had only just sat down in the officer’s lounge aboard the _Finalizer_ when an unexpected holo came in from the general. You didn’t screen the call. You couldn’t. He had the engineers _make it_ so you couldn’t. You froze in your seat and felt hot blood fill your face as a hush descended on the lounge and all eyes fell upon you. And here you thought you were going to have a quiet evening.

His tone had been devoid of levity, of course. That was to be expected. It was his impatience, evident in how the words escaped through his barely open teeth, that gave you pause. You spared a glance around the room at your fellow officers of the First Order. They knew as well as you did that when he said _please_ all was not well.

You stood and strode out of the lounge as nonchalantly as possible, abandoning your comfortable seat. As soon as you heard the _shh_ of the door closing behind you, you broke out into a frantic power-walk. You were sure the others were in the lounge thoroughly reveling their momentary schadenfreude. They didn’t really like you as it was. Perhaps it was envy. As if acting as the general’s aide-de-camp was an enviable thing at all.

There was nothing glamorous about fetching his fresh uniforms, drafting copy for his unimportant day-to-day correspondence, or handling his schedule. The only thing they wanted that you had was proximity to power. Little did they realize, it was precisely your indifference to it that made you so well suited for the job. The truth was your position sat at the perfect crossroads of _Nepotism_ and _Your Lack of Ambition_. Your father’s influence could only get you so far when all you cared about was serving your time just to get him off your back.

When you arrived at your boss’s door, you found yourself frozen, badge in hand, ready to scan in. Yet you were unwilling to pass it over the sensor. You took a shaky breath in and then out. This apprehension was not solely due to the expected reprimand. You knew that because you felt a twinge of it every time you stood in that exact spot.

The truth was, you feared him. You would be mad not to. He wielded his position with vicious precision. General Hux would not countenance failure or anything less than his planned outcome. He would crush anyone - ally or enemy- if they so much stepped a toe across his warpath.

More worrying than that, however, was how dangerously alluring you found him.

His ruthlessness. His unforgiving expectations. Even that sneer of his, both when he was displeased and when he was basking his own cruelty. What enjoyment you found in teasing out small praises from a man as difficult to please as this, a man who would just as soon castigate you in front of the entire bridge crew for the slightest mismanagement. Fear and attraction. You were never quite sure which you felt in greater measure. Or perhaps they were equal somehow. One feeding the other feeding the other. Like a snake swallowing its own tail deep in the pit of your stomach.

Despite how you may have appeared in your uniform, all buttoned up and neat, you were no saint. Your reputation back at the academy might have even preceded you were you not a master of maintaining an unassuming artifice. A skill which you needed now more than ever.

You shook your head and resolved to rip off the bacta patch, passing your badge across the sensor and stepping through the doorway with your usual confident purpose.

He kept the lights dim, save for the lamp on his desk. His quarters were surprisingly spartan. His things were immaculately organized. Ghostly blue light flickered across his face as he reviewed something on his holopad. The viewport behind him framed a picture fit for a general’s personal office. Starkiller Base loomed ominously outside, an incomplete titan. In the silence of the room, the click-clack of your austere dress heels pecked away at your ears like a countdown. He did not raise his eyes.

“General.”

Hux motioned for you to sit as he continued his work. As you lowered yourself into the uncomfortable chair across from his, quietly as you could, you peaked at his holopad. Requisition forms. Reviewing them was a task he could easily delegate to you, but he wasn’t above busy work when it was abundant. You stole a glance up at his face. He seemed occupied enough for you to indulge in a bit of harmless leering. The crease in his brow caught your eye. Next, the subtle, fixated purse of his lips. The desire to catch the full, pale-pink bottom one between your teeth intruded on you. Maybe you would bite down hard enough to make him cry out. Maybe a dirty word would fall from his lips.

Maybe he would retaliate by shoving you up against a wall and making you sorry. So sweetly sorry.

You dug your nails into your thigh as punishment for entertaining the vivid daydream to no avail. Your warped mind only switched gears to wondering what the nibble of flesh just above his starched collar tasted like.

Clearly, you had been trapped aboard the star destroyer too long to be surrendering so easily to your imagination.

“Captain,” he said, snapping the cover of his holopad closed and setting it aside. You jumped at the sound and trained your eyes elsewhere.

“My apologies for summoning you during your leisure hours,” he continued tersely, folding his hands in front of him.

He wasn’t really sorry, you well knew. The lip service heightened your suspicions.

“Not at all, General,” you said crisply, never to betray your dread.

He pinned you with a muted-green stare. Your stubbornness saw you meeting his eyes and refusing to look away. You were convinced that these moments were the unspoken tests. Satisfied or dissatisfied - you were hardly ever sure - he sucked in air to speak.

“You enjoy a rare privilege serving under me as I am sure you are aware. I place a great deal of trust in you to keep things running smoothly. You have never made a habit of disappointing me.”

Hux let the words hang in the air, studying your face closely - searching for something. You wanted to take the compliment but your instincts warned that to do so might be jumping the blaster.

“You can imagine my surprise and, indeed, my _disappointment_ at seeing a report cross my desk with your name on it,” he said, every word laced with mockery. “Of course, I had no choice but to follow-up with the claims.” You could not guess the contents of the report but the way he spoke made your stomach drop. The snake twisted and thrashed.

“Sir?” Was all you could manage.

Wordlessly, he leaned down to retrieve something from his right-side drawer. The smooth, shining case was small enough to fit in his one hand. He set it on the surface of his desk.

“Do you recognize this?”

“It’s a standard issue hygiene kit,” you answered. It would contain a toothbrush, shaving accoutrements, a plain comb. Simple yet essential and totally baffling in regard to its presence before you. You looked up at him, your puzzlement evident.

“Very good,” he purred.

You gave him as wry a look as you dared and snorted. “Shall we cut to the chase, sir?”

With spread, slender fingers he slid the kit toward you until it was within your grasp.

“Open it.”

Your gaze flicked between the box and General Hux as you tried to figure out why you were here. It clicked open as you passed your hand along the side. Careful not to make any obtrusive sound, you slowly opened the case. It wasn’t until you really took inventory of its contents that you realized how well and truly fucked you were.

It was your kit. One you only used for the rare opportunity for travel. One you had entirely erased from your own memory. After taking out all your daily use items, all that remained inside was a few stray bobby pins and a small tin of breath mints. But none of those things warranted a report. It was the final forgotten object that scared you.

It was a compact, brushed metal cylinder sitting right where you had left it all those months ago. Mortification and blind rage tore a path through you like a typhoon.

_Which conniving rat opened their mouth?_

You started to run through a mental list of the people who hated you enough to completely destroy you by reporting this - who could have possibly known about it in the first place. Who had been snooping in your things?

“Pick it up,” he said, interrupting your inner rampage.

You trained the quiver out of your hands and obeyed. Not wanting to waste his time, you twisted the container open and poured out the contents. Six white, unlabeled capsules wobbled and turned as did their warped reflections in the sleek black top of his desk. You watched them until they stilled.

The day you purchased them came fresh to your mind - it was the final day of your leave. Saying goodbye to the beautiful resort planet and returning to the cramped, sterile hallways of the _Finalizer_ filled you with a gloom so potent it impaired your judgment. You longed for a taste of your wild days, when you had a little more freedom, a little more room to be reckless. You purchased six specially synthesized spice capsules from a seedy off-world trader in the local’s market.

The high-stress nature of your work and your willingness to forget how foolish you were for making the purchase had effectively banished the secret spice stash from your mind. You realized what an idiotic idea it was after you only got through security by the skin of your teeth when you did return to your post. The memory shamed you. You had to resort to dropping your boss's name just to be let through. What was it you had told them when they asked what the capsules were?

“Ah, I can explain this,” you said, breezily. Smiling like you were relieved. Hux gestured as if to say _by all means_.

“I have a particular vitamin deficiency. B12. My body doesn’t process it efficiently. These are supplements, nothing more. I must have forgotten about these ones after my leave,” you explained, daring even to chuckle at the silliness of this whole affair.

“You expect me to believe these are vitamins? They look rather like... _illicit materials_.”

“It’s a personalized dosage. My family physician concocted it herself. They come straight from her.”

A single, orange eyebrow raised at your explanation.

“This wasn’t listed in your evaluation,” he said challenging you. What did he have the damn thing memorized? You cleared your throat.

“My evaluator didn’t think it vital enough to declare.”

“And who was your evaluator?” Hux said, the wind of catching you out no longer filling his sails.

“My family-”

“Your family physician, _of course_ ,” he snapped, waving you off.

You were beginning to think you might get out of this one. Stars, you were so good at lying sometimes it scared you.

“Well, far be it from me to impede your good health.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a mean way. “I insist you take one.”

“I…” you stalled and then smiled, “well I’ve already had one. Just this morning.”

“It wasn’t a request, Captain.” His tone was a warning but he schooled it into something eerily conciliatory. “Where’s the harm? It isn’t vital, after all.”

You bit your lip and smirked, shaking your head. Another test. One you had to pass or else be disowned by your family or worse.

“If it please you, sir.”

“It does.”

You gave him a tight smile as you did some quick mental math. How long did you have before you were full-scale rolling on spice? With a product that’s composition was mostly a mystery to you? Spice could be manipulated to cause all manner of desired reactions. You had experimented with it before. Every batch varied in intensity. The dealer only said that it would “help keep the party goin’”. You picked the capsule nearest to you and prayed it wasn’t cut with anything nasty - or better yet, that you had been taken for a naive tourist and all you held in your hand was a sugar pill and nothing more.

“Help yourself to a glass of water,” the general said, tipping his head toward the decanter tray sitting on a small table at the right-hand side of his desk. There would be, among other things, a pitcher of cool water. You knew this because you often saw to it yourself that it was always full.

“No need.” You raised the pill to your lips and popped it confidently in your mouth. His lips parted as he watched you pretend to swallow it. Then he flashed you his perfectly crooked teeth. It was a smile that left you feeling like this was a test that couldn’t be passed.

“Well,” you said clasping your hands together, “if that is all that is required of me.”

You stood and made to leave.

“Not so fast. I don’t recall dismissing you,” he said, feigning incredulity.

You could feel the pill dissolving under your tongue. A pleasant, sweet flavor filled your mouth. You might have held out hope that it was, indeed, a sugar pill were it not for the spreading tingling across your tongue and lips. You gradually found your seat again.

“Apologies, sir.” _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ You had to get away now before things progressed much further.

“That’s better. Now how about a drink?” He rose from his chair and stepped over to the decanter tray.

You bit your tongue and murmured your impatient acquiescence. The tingling trickled its way down your throat. For every moment you were trapped in that chair, something new set in. The subtle nebulousness of your thoughts, an increase in body temperature, the most bizarre desire to stroke the skin of your cheek for awhile.

“The cognac, I think,” he said, as he opened the ornate glass container with a _pop_. “It is still your leisure time, is it not?”

“Sir.”

The liquor was reserved for his high profile meetings and, though you sat in on every one, he had never shared a drink with you. Under different circumstances, you might have enjoyed the special privilege but all you wanted to do now was escape. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to make it if you didn’t get a lid on this immediately.

You were so occupied by your own thoughts you didn’t realize he was so close now. Your panic transmuted into something else entirely. Slim-shouldered yet still so imposing. Alabaster skin. High, aristocratic cheekbones. Sharp eyes watching you expectantly as he held out a glass. You wanted to reach out and touch that red hair of his which he took so much apparent pride in for how meticulously it was arranged.

You bit the inside of your cheek, chastising yourself for letting your sobriety slip.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking the drink from his hand.

“Of course. Now, the unveiling of our latest generation of Special Forces TIE fighters is imminent,” General Hux said, rounding his desk and lowering himself in his seat.

“Tomorrow. Eighteen-hundred hours,” you said, amazed you could recall that detail in your current state.

“Very good. We shall toast to that.”

You lifted your glass as he did. Sweat prickled on your temple and cooled on the back of your neck.

“To superior fire power,” you said, tipping your glass at him. If there was anything you could stumble your way through while under the influence it was the arch charisma expected of you by your upbringing.

Hux smirked, gave a short hum of approval, and quietly agreed. “Hear, hear.”

Euphoria at having pleased him flooded your system. Your body heat started to feel oppressive. You barely remembered to actually sip your drink.

“I was overlooking the changes you made to my speech,” he said, licking cognac from his lips, languidly sitting back and folding his hands over his middle. “They were much needed. Some of it was shocking, frankly. For example, the part about the- let’s see where is it?” He flicked around files on his holo until he came to it. You loved the way his mouth moved when he talked. The forward way he set his jaw, making his teeth meet with such delicacy, enunciating every word.

“Here we are,‘They will cower at our supremacy to no avail and be crushed-’”

“‘-beneath our blooded boots for the glory of the First Order’, yes,” you said, idly reaching up to play with that suffocating top button of your black uniform. You drank more cognac to quench a thirst which begged for something cooler and milder. You felt like panting but wouldn’t dare.

“That part was especially- oh what is the word? It was-”

“So hot,” you gasped, having completely forgotten what he was on about. “Sorry, I’m just gonna…”

With one hand you popped the top button of your shirt and sighed in relief at being free from the rigid collar. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes flicked down to the newly revealed skin. The general was laughing at you now without making a sound.

“I was going to say excessive. In any case, I’ll have to have a talk with my speechwriter.”

“May I be dismissed?” You had practically interrupted him as you dabbed at the sweat on your brow and rued the plaintive notes in your tone. Unconsciously, you started flexing the muscles in your thighs and buttocks. At first, because you were rigid from stress and then for the fantastic sensation that traveled from the tops of your knees, up and up like a coin turned on its side, rolling until it tipped over and wheeled around in a spot that made your lashes flutter.

The anxiety, the euphoria, the arousal. It was all coming to a head. You pressed your lips together as you stifled a whine. It was quite clear exactly what the intended effects of this drug were.

“What seems to be the matter?” he asked casually, taking lingering notice of your wriggling.

“It’s not- I’m not- I just don’t feel well, suddenly.”

You knew what this looked like. You could see the scandal of it reflected in those implacable, shining eyes of his. You realized how deep you were breathing. How lazily your eyelids hovered. This is what he wanted all along. You could almost laugh with him at the absurdity of it.

Hux artfully drained the remainder of his drink, setting the glass down without a clatter.

“Did you lie to me, Captain?”

There was a long pause between you as he awaited your answer.

“I’ll have that water now.” You rose from your chair, afraid to encourage some new, staggering sensation. Your toe caught on your heel as you stumbled to the decanter tray. Humiliating. Best case scenario, you were fired. What would your family say? Your grasp felt too unreliable to coordinate grabbing a glass and filling it.

“There, there. Let me.” General Hux’s fingers brushed against yours as he took the glass. When had he left his seat? He was behind you at first but he soon sidled up so close beside you. You could smell his aftershave. His presence triggered a primitive part of you. Fear and attraction. He poured your water for you and presented it. You took it greedily, bringing the cup to your lips as fast as you could and gulping it down as he watched on with aloof interest.

You took a break to breathe and he captured your chin in his cool hand.

“You disrespect me by flouting the rules.” His grip tightened on your cheek, squishing the corners of your mouth. “Tell me, my dear, have I ever been one to suffer disrespect?”

“No, sir,” you replied, very nearly moaning it for how he had called you _my dear_.

You couldn’t fight Hux even if you wanted to. You were too busy thinking about how nice it would be to lean into his palm.

“You leave me no choice but to carry out disciplinary action myself. I cannot show any favoritism. As such, your punishment will be _severe_.” He made no effort to hide how much he was going to savor it.

“I understand you perfectly, sir,” you said, reaching out with a hand you no longer had control of to clutch his wrist.

“Good,” he said through his teeth, fixating on your moist lips as he dragged the soft pad of his thumb across the bottom one. There was the far away consolation that he was as entranced by yours as you were by his.

Like some _creature_ hungry for stimuli you let your tongue wander out to taste. He let his mouth drop open slightly as you closed yours around his thumb and started sucking. Slowly. Deliberately, taking your time to explore the fine ridges of his finger. You closed your eyes and felt as he brought his free hand to the back of your neck. Your high temperature was insistent that you release a couple more of those shirt buttons.

Hux pulled his thumb out of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. He was looking down at you, almost deranged, as he dragged your saliva across his own mouth. Then he crashed down on you, kissing you like he wanted to hurt you. He didn’t wait for your assent to use his tongue. You opened to him, still sweet with spice. He could taste it too. He must. Good. You wanted to spread the exquisite poison that he had given you.

You were unleashed, desperately clawing at his shoulders and messing up his hair. He chuckled meanly against your lips. He was laughing at you again. At your behavior. At how desperate you were to press your whole body up against him - to find some purchase for pleasure. Your pride bristled but not for long. Taking down your neatly-bunned hair and dropping to your knees before him, you resolved to level the playing field.

You ran your hot hands over his erection which strained against his charcoal jodhpurs. He couldn’t hide this. How hard it made him watching you lose control. Eager to lay eyes on him, you deftly unzipped and lowered his trousers. You gasped as his cock swung free, uncut and beautifully pale. His fastidious cleanliness was evident even in his pants. And to your endless delight, although you could have guessed it, the neatly trimmed hairs that wreathed him were just as orange as those upon his head. Grasping his thighs, you watched him watch you as you snaked your tongue out to catch the glistening precum.

General Hux hissed. You smiled at the sound of the glass clinking on the decanter tray as he placed a sudden, steadying hand upon it. A stark flush painted his skin. You could see his chagrin at your obvious grab for an advantage. He schooled his expression to a more indifferent one and took himself in hand.

“That state of you,” he breathed, stroking your hair as he bounced the pink tip of his cock on your parted lips thrice, “you ought to be ashamed.”

He arranged your hair neatly over your shoulder and you closed your mouth around him in reply. Deeper and deeper you took him, swirling and flicking your tongue and letting your hand cover what you could not. You could feel his thighs flexing beneath your touch. The more of him you took in the more it was evident that your gag reflex was out to lunch. Yet another novel effect of the spice. Curious, you swallowed his spit-gleaming cock until your nose was buried in coarse, soap-scented curls and lingered long enough to spare him a glance.

Maybe you weren’t so indifferent to power, after all. You had never felt so drunk on it before, seeing your general’s open-mouthed gasp and furrowed brow as he watched you deep-throat him.

 _The state of you_ , you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t have long to luxuriate in your victory, as Hux was clearly ready to dispense with the games. He began to fuck your mouth with long, merciless strokes, yanking your hair into a ponytail. Your throat was pleasantly numb but a part of you wished you could experience the struggle of being invaded this way sober. Still, the way drool dripped and strung down off of your chin made you feel used in such a wonderful way.

“Up,” he commanded, dragging his length out of your mouth. He pulled you to him as you rose, wheeling the decanter tray out of the way and pressing your ass roughly against the edge of his desk. He smoothed his hands up and down the backs of your stocking-clad thighs and he lifted you with little effort to sit on it. Your pencil skirt strained and slid up as he nestled himself between your legs. He kissed your sodden mouth and idly stroked himself.

“You nearly had me fooled,” he murmured against your neck in between kisses and bruising nips. “So orderly. Only ever on task.”

Your jacket was pulled down around your arms. The remainder of your buttons were done away with and his hand found your breast. He pulled down your plain bra, palming, squeezing, plucking at your nipple, switching to the other to encourage your little whimpers and arching back.

“And so accommodating. So eager to please me. Or did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

You wrapped your hand around the back his neck as he continued to lick and suck your bare shoulder. You could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as your wrapped your arms around him and you knew Hux was as far gone as you were. He leaned over you, into you, hand steadying your lower back. A jolt of pleasure rocked you as his other crept up your inner thigh to cup your sex and press while you moved against him for more sensation. A long, low moan vibrated in your chest. He softly shushed you as your hips bucked from the maddening pressure.

“How prettily you blush at any minute word of praise-” the general said in your ear, like it was an admonishment.

 _Riiip_. He laid waste to the crotch of your stockings, tearing the thin barrier with ease.

“-looking just the way you do now-”

You cried out and pulled his hair at his faintest tracing of your slit over your black panties, your thoughts swimming as he pulled them aside.

“-only for me.” General Hux sighed, very amused at how soaked you were, how you mewled at his every touch. With teasing circles, he manipulated you until it was too much and you wriggled away from him. Then, holding your hips in place, he slipped his fingers easily inside of you. Precise and curling. Pushing in and out until your thighs and ass quaked for how long you had been tensing them from his relentless attention.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut and squeezing his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, softening his touch. The knot in the pit of your stomach tightened more and more with no relief.

You hissed. “Bastard!”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he snapped, laying a hand between your breasts, shoving you down to lie so he could survey what he had done to you. Your jacket was pulled down, your shirt open, bra only half on. Your stockings were ripped and your skirt had been pushed up to your belly. Your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks and your chest heaved up and down like you had just outrun a charging bantha. The general looked more or less himself save for the sheen of sweat on his brow and a few fallen strands of red hair which he raked back too soon for you to be able to savor the rumpled look on him.

With one hand, he lifted your leg behind the knee. Then you felt you underwear pulled aside and his length pushing insistently and the entrance of your swollen cunt.

“Now, I’m going to give you what you deserve. Would you like that, Captain?”

“Yesss,” you said, impatiently. Your fingernails dug into the edges of his desk as you lay across it long-ways.

“I beg your pardon?” he said, genuinely annoyed, rubbing your clit up and down none-too-gently with his cock.

“Yes, sir,” you wail. _For fuck’s sake_.

“Good girl.”

And with one brutal thrust you were consumed. A moan ripped out of your throat and you threw your head back. By the sweet satisfaction of being filled to the hilt by your arrogant general and the spice coursing through your veins with every beat of your heart you came, thunderously, blindingly. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you soundlessly mouthed words of ecstasy.

Then the lights went out.

When you came to, he was lazily fucking you. Watching you with a casual gaze. Only seconds had passed while you were unconscious but you still felt like a time traveler as you recovered. That was definitely score one against you in the game of who will be most undone by the end.

Not that you were mad about it.

“There she comes,” he hummed, picking up your other leg. You crossed your ankles behind him and he took it as a sign that you were ready to continue. He wasted no time setting a savage pace, thrusting hard into you, his desk making scraping sounds in time with his movement. Perhaps it was the drugs talking but you decided in that moment that his cock was perfect. It was all you ever needed. Just his cock and his mouth and his fingers forever.

The rest of the spice capsules rattled to the floor.

A vein started to bulge in his forehead and his face reddened. Hux’s hand slapped the desk next to your head and he was looming over you. The mask of control fell away again and he started to pant. You pawed at his back, his shoulders, uselessly trying to dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you sobbed with every fulfillment.

“Shit,” he muttered, putting his free hand to good use, his fingers drawing hurried circles on your clit. Another orgasm reluctantly mounted, but you could tell by how frantically he fucked you now that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Now, damn you,” he snarled, giving you a direct order. The general’s thrusts were becoming irregular. You were so close.

His head fell forward, buried in between your neck and shoulder. His cock twitched inside you and as he came he cried out and let slip your name.

Your _given_ name.

And then, because you were - as he said - so eager to please him, you obeyed. This time, you remembered to breathe so you wouldn’t pass out as you came once more because, honestly, he had a big enough ego as it was. Fucking you unconscious _twice_ just wasn't a victory you were willing to give him.

By the time you came to your senses, he was still laying on top of you, his own breathing steadily slowing to normal. You toyed with the idea of smoothing down his hair or tickling the back of his neck as a gesture of calming affection but he was far too unpredictable for you to try - an element of his mystique which you begrudgingly adored.

After a moment’s more rest, he reached a sluggish hand into his pocket and procured a handkerchief. With great effort, he lifted himself off of you and cleaned up, tucking himself back into his pants. After that, he folded the expensive material and, with surprising tenderness, did the same for you.

Then, stepping around his desk he dropped himself back into his chair, huffing with exhaustion. The handkerchief was cast aside into one of his drawers to be dealt with later. You scooted your butt to the edge of the desk and gently lowered yourself onto your feet. It was only now, you noticed that your throat and everything from the waist down _killed_. A nice keepsake, you thought, for as long as it would last.

“Now,” he said, smoothing his hair down for a second and final time, “you are dismissed.”

You nodded intending leave but not before sparing a curious glance toward the little white capsules on the floor.

“I’ll be keeping those. Rules are rules.”

You bit your lip and cocked your head.

“But, General,” you said, “my deficiency.”

He leaned back and gave you an unreadable expression.

“Worry not, Captain.” His eyes glittered. “I’ll see to it your needs are met.”

And then you departed to ride out the rest of your trip in the comfort of your quarters, repeatedly satiated by the hardly believable memory of what had just occurred and the long daydream of what was still to come.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah he's an abrupt meanie but you just know he catches feelings at the drop of [pants]
> 
> btw someone break a champagne bottle off on this bitch cause this is the first smut ive ever published and im never gonna read it or acknowledge it because im embarrassed so


End file.
